


Violet

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Chloroform, Demons, Gen, Kidnapping, Non-Sexual Bondage, Ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 07:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Lucas has his eye on a mysterious woman, but it turns out she isn't easy to kidnap.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The character of Violet has been a favourite OC of mine for over 20 years, and I've adapted her for many occassions.  
> I really wanted her to meet Lucas, so used this slightly tongue-in-cheek story to intruduce them.

Hiding had become a way of life for Lucas. He hid from his parents. He hid his thoughts from Eveline. He hid in bushes to spy on potential victims. Hiding, all the fucking time. At first, he'd felt mysterious, skulking in the shadows, creeping death and misery to all he chose to come into contact with. But like anything else, it got boring after a while.

He was hiding now. It was meant to be business, looking out for bums and hitchhikers to feed Eveline’s fucked up family obsession, but it had quickly become pleasure when he'd spotted the woman walking the dog.

She was tall, long-legged. Not skinny, but not fat either. She reminded him of the pinup girls from the 40s, big hips and titties, small waist. She wore a black dress that clung to her curves. He followed stealthily behind her, sneaking from tree to tree. Her ass was damn fine too.

She walked with confidence despite the lateness of the hour, not a bit concerned about murderers or rapists. Or people like him. Probably because of the dog. It was some kind of mongrel, big, black. It stopped to sniff and piss every few feet. Good dog. Allowed Lucas to get a good eyeful of the owner.

He wondered if she was on her way back home. Wondered whether he'd follow her there to see where she lived. She wasn't suitable for Eveline, but that didn't matter. He just wanted to look for now.

He'd followed her for about a mile before she finally stopped at a front gate. She paused with her hand on the gate post, her head tilted as though listening. Skulk, skulk. Lucas dodged behind a tree.

“You know,” she said out loud. “If you wanna step up an’ say hi, you should just do it…..”

She turned. Stared at the tree he was currently behind.

“I know you been followin’ me. Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Be rude not to introduce yourself.”

She wasn't local. Southern, but not Louisiana. He couldn't place the accent.

Feeling all kinds of stupid, he stepped out from behind his tree.

“Hi.” He could spare her a syllable, he guessed.

She smiled at him, brushing glossy black bangs from a pale forehead.

“There. Weren't too hard. Name's Violet. And you are?”

“Lucas.” Shit. He hadn't meant to tell her, but she'd just jerked it right outta him.

“Lucasss….” She turned his name over in her mouth. He liked the way she made it sound. He liked the mouth she said it with too. Full lips. Blowjob lips. “Well, now the introductions are through, can I do something for ya?”

He shrugged. He felt awkward as fuck.

He'd never been exactly good at talking to people, let alone beautiful women and now, after a few years of isolation and lunacy? Forget it. He was better at talking to people who were tied up and terrified.

“I like yer dog….” Real smooth Lucas. She's gonna be dazzled by your sparkling conversation.

“I like ‘im too. Bub here's a real good boy.”

“Woulda thought a woman like you’d have one of them little bitty dogs you carry round in a purse,” he said, eyeing the beast.

“A woman like me? Honey, there ain't no women like me. ‘Specially not around these parts.” She looked at the spread of town with some distaste.

“I'm guessin’ you don't like it here much,” observed Lucas. He'd walked closer to her, trying to appear less of a creeper, but he didn't want to get too close. If she got a good look at him she was likely to turn and hightail it through that gate and out of his life forever.

“It's ok. Kinda backward. But I'm just passin’ through. Won't be here long.”

Lucas felt a stab of disappointment at her words, wondered why. It wasn't like she was gonna fall in love with him or anything. She took a couple of steps towards him and he fought the urge to cringe down into his hood like a turtle retreating into its shell. The dog worried him. He liked dogs, but the few he'd encountered in the years since Eveline didn't seem to like him much. They could tell there was something wrong with him. Dogs weren't dumb.

This dog appeared relaxed though. Just looking at him like it didn't give two shits whether Lucas stood there or fucked off.

“Are you ok, honey?”

Violet was talking to him. She looked concerned, trying to peer into the depths of his hood.

“You don't look well. Are ya ill?” She bit her lip worriedly in a way that made Lucas feel faint and horny. “Do you wanna come inside and sit down for a spell?”

Holy shit. How was this woman still alive, asking strangers into her house? Especially shifty looking fuckers like him. But he wasn't gonna say no. Not with the little ziploc bag he had stashed in his hoodie. The one containing the wad of cotton soaked in chloroform. She might not be any use to Eveline, but he could sure as hell think of a few uses for her. And that juicy mouth of hers.

 

Her house was sparsely furnished, but that made sense if she wasn't planning on staying long. What furniture she did have looked expensive though, and the chair Lucas was currently sitting in was so comfy he could fall asleep there. He had a mug of coffee in his hand - good, strong, freshly ground coffee the likes of which he hadn't tasted in a long time. The house smelled good, too - polish and some sort of incense. Made a change from the stink of rotting flesh and mold.

Sighing with contentment, he nestled down further in his chair, eyeing the rug that covered most of the floor. It looked fancy. Was it Persian? The woman evidently had money. He wondered how much of it she had around the house.

She'd shut the dog out in the yard, which made things less complicated. He didn’t want to have to hurt the dog, and the longer he sat there the more he was determined that he was gonna end up doing something the dog wasn't gonna like. He set his coffee down and felt inside his hoodie, feeling for the bag. The edges crinkled comfortingly under his fingers. There was a painting of his hostess above the fireplace he stared at - Violet in some kind of flowing robe, not quite transparent but flimsy enough to be able to glimpse a hint of nipple, a curve of fleshy pink hip. Oh yeah. She was coming home with him tonight.

He felt slightly guilty about his intentions after she'd been so pleasant to him, but his Momma had always told him never to look a gift horse in the mouth. The woman had to be simple-minded trusting someone like him. She needed to be taught a valuable lesson, and he was just the man to teach her.

He stared at the painting some more, focusing on the shadow at the painted Violet’s crotch as he waited for her to return. He doubted the artist had painted her pussy, but he could use his imagination. He felt his dick stiffen at the thought of that hot little crevice between her legs. He wondered how tight it would feel around his cock.

He heard a noise behind him, a creak of floorboard, and began to turn, his fingers closing around the plastic bag. Something clamped over his face, a sharp smell he recognised, and his eyes widened in shock.

Holy fucking shit, he thought in the moments before he lost conciousness. Bitch had her own damn chloroform.

 

Lucas woke up on the floor. The lamps had been turned off and candle lights reflected off the ceiling, dancing patterns that twisted as his vision cleared. He lifted his head, craning his neck. The rug had been rolled up and was leaning in the corner of the room, leaving him on bare boards. He tried to move his arms but he saw they'd been bound with wires to hooks screwed into the floor, his legs given the same treatment, spreadeagling him. Furious, he tugged at his bonds, the wires cutting into the scant flesh of his wrists.

“What the fuck?”

“Don't bother trying to escape,” said a voice. It sounded like Violet’s voice, but her accent had changed. She was _British_?

Lucas looked wildly round the room, finally spotting the woman stood in the doorway. She was wearing the flimsy, see-through gown from the painting, and despite his rage he couldn't help but admire how she looked in it. In real life, it was a little more clingy and a lot more transparent.

Swallowing his anger with some difficulty, Lucas tried to be reasonable.

“I suggest you let me up off the fuckin’ floor, lady. Do it now an’ I might go easy on ya. Cuz I'll tell you now, you haven't got the first fuckin’ clue who you are dealin’ with.”

Violet appeared unimpressed.

“You haven't got the first fucking clue how many times I've heard that,” she stated calmly, walking over and perching herself on the arm of the chair he'd so recently occupied. She peered down at him, her eyes exploring his helpless frame with apparent pleasure.

“I did feel a tiny bit guilty when I tied you down there,” she admitted. “But then I went through your pockets…..”

She held up the ziploc bag, its contents still in situ.

“The hunter has become the hunted,” she remarked. “What were you planning on doing with me?”

Lucas tried to shrug, a tricky manoeuvre when tied to the floor.

“Was jest gonna take you home with me…..”

She smiled.

“I've no doubt you were.” She looked him over again. “It's a pity, though. I rather liked the look of you. Under different circumstances you might’ve ended up tied to my bed instead of down there, but needs must when the devil drives.”

She stood, all brisk and business-like.

“Anyway, I won't prolong this. I don't enjoy it. Unlike your good self, I imagine. You probably like having people restrained and terrified, don't you?”

“I ain't terrified!” Lucas retorted.

“You will be.” It wasn't a threat, more of a flat statement. “Now be quiet. Let's get this over with.”

 

She stood over him, the candles backlighting her in a way that shone through her robe, the curve of her waist and hips perfectly visible. There was some sort of pendant hung round her neck and she grasped it with her left hand. Eyes closed, she began to mutter under her breath, a continuous stream of words he couldn't pick up. The candle flames stuttered as if a breeze had crossed the room, though he didn't feel one.

He wanted to speak - not to beg, he assured himself - but his tongue felt dead in his mouth. The air in the room had grown heavy at some point, the atmosphere charged with a frantic, unnatural energy, like the bayou before the storm. It settled over him in a heavy blanket, pressing him to the bare boards almost painfully. He struggled to breathe, and what little air he managed to pull in to his protesting lungs tasted like rotten eggs.

The shadows were shifting, one corner suddenly darker than the others, the blackness lengthening, crawling across the floor in his direction. His teeth chattered as the temperature in the room plummeted, little puffs of fog stuttering from between his lips.

Violet had been right. He was terrified.

The stretching shadow elongated even more, lifting up from the floor impossibly, growing upwards as he watched. It began to take shape, solidifying, becoming black, swirling smoke in the vague shape of a man. Twin points of light pierced the sooty form, slanted and cruel looking, somehow possessed of a hideous sentience, regarding him on the floor as a reptile would survey its prey.

Heart pounding in his ears, Lucas saw the thing rear over him, bowing in a wave-like motion, drawing closer.

Violet had stopped her muttering.

“Is this one any good for you?” It sounded like a formality, almost - as though it were a rhetorical question spoken out of politeness more than anything.

The thing grew more solid still, facial features rippling into existence, a curved mouth opening as it studied him.

Lucas gagged on the stench it gave off - a thousand times worse than anything back home, and despite the freezing temperature in the room, this creature was like standing next to an open oven. He felt the hairs inside his nose singe.

It pulled away. A voice came from it, deep and hollow, sounding in Lucas’s ears and his head at the same time.

“He is tainted,” it said, echoing off the walls as though they were in a vast underground cavern. “There is something in his blood that spoils him. You must find me another.”

“Well, shit.” Violet sighed, exasperated. “Ok, then. Piss off. I'll get another one. How much time do I have?”

“One week,” intoned the thing, and pissed off.

 

The air cleared, the atmosphere lightening. Violet turned the overhead light back on, travelling round the room and snuffing the candles.

“I knew there was something off about you. I just couldn't put my finger on it.” She stood over him again, hands on her hips, tapping her foot. “What am I going to do with you now, Lucas?”

“Let me up?” he suggested reasonably.

“I'm not sure I should. You're a dangerous man, aren't you?”

“No I ain't!” he lied.

She smiled.

“Yes you are. You've killed, haven't you? No, I think I'm just going to have to dispose of you. Can't have you running around loose wanting revenge.”

She let her gaze crawl over him one more time.

“Pity, though. You're bloody lovely,” she mused. “I always liked skinny bad boys. Ah well.”

Violet left the room, returning a few minutes later in a more practical outfit of tight jeans and a skimpy t-shirt with the word “Bitchcraft” written across the front. She had a long, curved knife in her hand, the silver handle carved in an intricate design.

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut your throat, Lucas,” she told him, getting down on her knees near his head. “Don't take it personally, dear.”

“Won't do you no good,” Lucas warned her. “It'll heal right up.”

“Really? Is it whatever is in your blood that does it?”

“Yep. I got special, regenerative powers.”

“Hmm. You're not lying. How about if I cut your head off? Will it grow back?”

Lucas hesitated. He honestly didn't know.

“Ah. You're not sure. Well, it's worth a try.”

Violet held the knife over his throat, aiming it carefully, the tip of her tongue protruding from between her lips with concentration.

“Wait! Wait!” Lucas pleaded, panicking. “Can't we make a deal?”

She lowered the knife.

“What kind of deal?”

“Well, I can help you get another victim….” he suggested. “I'm good at that.”

“Sacrifice, not victim,” she corrected. “And I've been doing it myself for more than 90 years, once every year. What makes you think I need your help?”

Lucas looked at her doubtfully.

“You ain't no 90 year old!” he scoffed.

“You're quite right. I’m not. I'm 130 years old. What do you think the fucking sacrifices are for?”

“What - jest to stay young?”

“No, not just for that. I have other powers too. Ones you will become very aware of if you try anything sneaky when I let you up. So be good.”

To Lucas’s relief, Violet put the knife down, leaning across him to unwind the wire on his far wrist. The soft, weighty cushions of her tits pressed against his face as she worked, nearly smothering him with her perfumed flesh. Lucas didn't protest.

One wrist undone, she stood, retrieving her knife.

“You can do the others. I'm going to let Beelzebub in.”

 

The dog bounded into the room as Lucas finished his other wrist and started work on his ankles, the beast’s great tongue slobbering wetly across his face.

“Hey!” Lucas put off his arms to ward the animal off, but not in time to avoid a moist lick in his ear.

“Beelzebub, get off him!”

Violet appeared, hooking her fingers into the dog's collar and dragging him off.

“Sorry. He tends to be over-friendly for a hellhound.”

Lucas wiped dog spit from his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Beelzebub, right.”

“Bub for short.” Violet sat watching him as he freed himself, scratching the dog behind his ear.

“So why’re ya lettin’ me go?” asked Lucas suspiciously.

Violet shrugged.

“Not sure, really. But I think I like you. Yes, that could be it. Still, I intend to hold you to your offer. You get me another sacrifice.”

Lucas tossed the last piece of wire away. Violet extended her hand and after a moment’s hesitation, he took it. She hauled him to his feet, her strength surprising him.

“So - what? Ya need a man, or can it be a woman?”

“It doesn't matter. They just need to fulfil a certain criteria.”

“An’ what would that be.”

Violet stared at him before answering.

“Well, they need to have killed. Deliberately, not by accident. And…..they have to be a virgin…..”

“Hey!” Lucas’s face went hot, blood flushing his cheeks and burning his ears. “I ain't no virgin!”

Violet laughed.

“Oh yes, you are. I can tell. Just like I can tell you're a ruthless killer.”

“How the fuck can you tell all that jest by lookin’ at someone?” Lucas blustered.

“I can see auras,” she said. She caught his look, somewhere between disbelief and scorn, and sighed. “I know, I know. It sounds like hippy-dippy bullshit, but it's true. Murder in an aura is black, and you have a good deal of that.”

“Oh yeah? An’ what colour is virginity?” said Lucas skeptically.

“Pink. The prettiest pink you ever did see. Your aura, Lucas, looks like a Barbie doll gone Goth.” She laughed.

“So what's stoppin’ me from jest skeddaddlin’ outta here an’ not comin’ back? Let you get yer own goddam sacrifice?”

“Well, for one thing, I have several demons in my power that could easily track you down and deal with you. And for another…..” Violet stepped in close to him, the smell of sandalwood filling his nose, her breath tingling against his lips. “....you help me, and I'll help you with the whole virginity thing….”

She winked at him.

“C’mon, Lucas. What d’ya say?”

Lucas felt his dick twitch hopefully, trying to get his attention.

“You got yerself a deal,” he said.


End file.
